Deal With a Witch
by Old Emerald Eye
Summary: Her Kingdom needs a warrior, an Orville or a Saganami to defend it. Elizabeth makes a deal. Honor/Elizabeth au, ficlet series.
1. The Hazel

This is inspired in part by Aoife's _Through It All, War,_ available on Ao3, with a twist towards Honor/Beth rather than Mike. I recommend all of her work.

**Title**: The Hazel

**TW**: character death.

**Summary**: Her Kingdom needs a warrior, an Orville or a Saganami to defend it.

* * *

Elizabth Adrienne Samantha Annette Winton, third of her name, does not enjoy making backroom deals, but circumstances beyond her control force her forward. Her kingdom needs a strong defender, an Orville or Saganami that will face the odd that threaten to overwhelm it, and survive to replicate the feat as many times at it is threatened.

It is hard - and should be harder, if things were ... otherwise - for a Queen to slip from her palace into the woods unseen, but Ellen Shamais, her new head of security, is as solid and dependable at her back as Ariel was when Jason had been hospitalised. Once under the cover of the trees, the walk doesn't take long. The Wintons had known the power they were bringing with them on the Jason, and taken care that it stayed close to the throne even before there had _been_ a throne. Power was power. Nobility was simply a different kind, one that had built on itself until there had hardly been need for her destination.

The dwelling she enters is deceptively small, the visible ramshackle cottage nestled into the curve of a hill half covered by ferns and trailing moss-vine. She sets the gift – not payment, she knows better – by the door and steps through. She doesn't see the witch, only hears her in the creak of the floor and the sigh of the shadows. Her request is heard in silence and gloom, words falling into silence like a deep well.

The voice, when it speaks into the quiet of her request is older than any Elizabeth has heard, even pre-prolong.

"And what price the kingdom? Would you give it your heart?"

Elizabeth doesn't like the way the tongue curls around that last word - but she isn't here for regrets. She is in this place to make a deal. Her thoughts are gathered and marshaled.

For the Kingdom, the witch asks. For the Kingdom, she would give anything. War is coming. Her father knew that – died for it. And even if it took the lives of every women and man in it, hers included, to save it, it would be worth the price. The Kingdom is more than the people it hold. Her Kingdom is the planets, and the binary stars, and the space between them. The 'cats and the junction and the revenue it pours into the coffers, and it is the history and customs that stretch back to Landing, and the future unfolding from that foundation. That is her Kingdom, and her duty to it is what makes her Elizabeth Winton.

What price? There is no price she would not pay.

She _is_ Manticore. And it is hers, heart and soul.

Her answer, "I already have," is greeted with a contemplative huff. It's more human than anything she's heard so far, but she doesn't let herself relax. Keeps herself as still and smooth as ever she is facing any of her political opponents.

The witch is just as quiet. The room grows still, allowing the crackle of some distant fire to reach their ears. There is even, as she breathes deep, a hint of smoke in the air.

Finally, _finally,_ the response.

"You will have your warrior."

* * *

Elizabeth doesn't expect her knight to present themselves immediately. The threat is nearing, but not yet immanent.

The following day, she is proceeding over the post-graduation reception at Saganami. Mike is at the top of her cohort, resplendent in her black and gold. Beside her, with grey treecat, stands who can be no one but Honor. Her cat – Nimitz, she thinks, named after an admiral from before the Diaspora- bleeks a greeting to Ariel, and their eyes meet. There is something in her eyes that makes Beth think of the grounded, infinitely varied greens of each of her three planets, and immediately after, and at the same time, the vast emptiness of space. She blinks – it is odd for her to be so fanciful on duty – and Honor has turned back to Mike.

She shakes hands and congratulates, and pretends not to notice as a chain of hushed whispers approach, waiting until Ellen leans to whisper discreetly in her ear that condition has worsened. She bites her lip until she tastes blood and bows out of the event with all the grace that the Queen of Manticore could possibly possess.


	2. Strength to Hold

**Title:** Strength to Hold and Not Succumb

**Summary:** Temptation, thy name is ease and utility. (And ignorance of consequence.)

* * *

The thing about having access to magic is the temptation to do something with it. (In fact, it bears a remarkable similarity to treatise on absolute power. A power everyone knows the Winton's have never, and will never possess. That's the thing about facts that everyone knows.)

And Beth _is_ tempted. Horribly, at times, and at others because it would be so much easier than holding onto her own temper by sheer force of will. As is the case when her son is born, and sooner than that, when his existence is revealed – oh, not universally negative, in fact the reception is rather positive, but there are those who will have their opinions, common courtesies be damned – and periodically when the call goes out for her to find a consort. All with the best of intentions, of course.

She does not succumb. Ellen gets a workout, when it is feasible; her aunt is driven to near distraction, and the budget for massages and other cravings doubles for the duration, but she does not succumb. To any of her desires.

(A side effect of her displacement: she gains a reputation as a patron of the smaller confectionery producers in Landing to match her father's championship of the navy. It was not her intention, but once gained she finds no fault in it. It is part of the Monarchs duty to support her subjects businesses, after all. Even if it is a less fearsome reputation, she is a young Queen yet. And her subjects _love_ her.)

She knows consequences too well now for that. She wonders if she would make the same deal again. If anything less would have sufficed. If magic could change the past. She wonders how high the price for that would be.

And sometimes, when more pessimistic reports are heard week by week, she wonders if she had asked for enough.


	3. In Recognition

This part is inspired by _Five Scenes in the Life of Elizabeth III_, by _Bracketyjack_. If you haven't read it, now is the time.

**Title: **In Recognition (Uncertainty)

**Summary:** Awareness comes slowly.

* * *

Elizabeth doesn't exactly forget Honor. Her memory is too good for that, thanks to gene-modifications and almost two t-decades of training. Politics is a fine whetstone. Besides, Mike has used her on Michael, to great effect. That's not easily forgotten. It was something in the range of scalpels and short ranged bludgeoning. As time passes, she allows herself to see the humour in that.

But she is allowed to fade from Beth's mind as her aunt is accepted as Regent and her rule begins in earnest. Heavy is the head, and too many are the burdens for such a small contact to linger.

Until Casmir. The incident is not urgent enough to justify disturbing her in the middle of the night – Roger, in the midst of a spell of colic, is enough for that – but early the next morning she receives a priority com from Admiralty, closely followed by a diplomatic analysis. The situation is enough of a headache - not that she disapproves of the actions taken, quite the opposite, but the _reactions_ \- that Arial cuts her a chunk of celery to chew.

It is her first inkling that the tall girl with impish treecat is her warrior. Her wondering is tempered by caution – Elizabeth has learned well that magic is imprecise and ruthlessly literal in turn. This may be nothing more than actions taken on Harrington's own initiative. Her mother is a y Chou of Beowolf, after all. Ballroom sympathies run deep in her blood.

Regardless of the justice, of the thousands saved, Haven is the Kingdom's enemy, not Manpower, foul as their trade undoubtedly is. Elizabeth cannot afford to be rash.

But she remembers.

* * *

**A/N:** Shout out to 4Reads-alot's eyes for catching the typo.


End file.
